


The Absence of Space

by ckksac



Series: What Was Once Unspoken [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Forgiveness, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckksac/pseuds/ckksac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Oliver and Felicity begin to discover who they are together, unspoken fears begin to intrude, forcing both of them to face what had previously been avoided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Absence of Space

**Author's Note:**

> *Style Note: When I first wrote this, Oliver and Felicity's names were sprinkled throughout the text. But I found it interrupted the flow and so I decided to start removing their names until it fit the mood I was trying to create. It left me with what you find below. It's an odd-style to be sure, but I felt it worked best with the intimacy of the story.

_She gasped for air, her lungs constricting further….she can’t breathe….she can’t breathe…..he said to trust him…..he’s not there and she can’t breathe….she’s dying and he’s not there…..she is alone._

She woke with a gasp, eyes blinking rapidly in the light filtering in from the windows. She looked around wildly, slowly recognizing the white-washed walls of the bedroom and the sounds of the surf crashing on the shore. She feels him stir behind her, his fingers softly caressing her stomach, his lips pressing into the nape of her neck. She forces herself to take a breath, and then another, willing her body to relax into his embrace. But the nightmare is still there, sharply etched in her mind and the fear is slow to fade, her body refusing to relax.

“Ssshhh….it’s okay,” his voice is rough with sleep as he trails kisses across her collarbone. “What were you dreaming?”

She doesn’t answer. Since leaving home, their days and nights have been spent losing themselves in each other, discovering the other in a way once believed to never be possible. Endless days and nights of pleasure…of feeling the weight of his body upon hers, the touch of his lips upon her breasts, the very taste of him upon her lips. It was only recently, since renting the small beachside cottage, that she’s woken from this nightmare, gasping for breath. Night after night, the nightmare comes, never changing. When she wakes, heart pounding, he is always there, soothing her fear. And then he asks but she never answers. He never forces the issue. Instead, he brings her back from her nightmare with his mouth, his hands, until he burns the remains away.  Not this time, though.  He pauses in his exploration of her neck, lifting his lips from her skin, his fingers stilling in their motion. This time he waits for her to answer. She struggles internally for a moment, wanting to hide her nightmare from him, wanting to shield him from her fears, not wanting him to hurt because of her. She wants to avoid this, but knows that she cannot. It is not their way. It has never been their way.

“I am in the dungeon. Chained. But in my dreams, I’m alone…always alone….dying alone.” Her voice is barely a whisper and his body tenses in response to her words. Silence lays heavy between them, broken only by the sound of the soft whirring of the ceiling fan as it spins in lazy circles above them. She is still wrapped in his embrace, every inch of their body pressed so tightly together she cannot discern where he ends and she begins. Yet, she feels a space growing between them….an empty void created by her words of fear. She feels him take a breath, his chest rubbing against her back as he takes a second breath, and then a third.

“I – I….” he swallows, and tries again, “I would never….ever….hurt you.” The pain in his voice is real and she nods her head. “Knowing that I was pretending, that I was still _me_ , did you really believe you were dying?”

“It was all so confusing. You were so cold, so remote. You were there but you weren’t really there. I kept waiting for you to come back, to save us all. Yet you didn’t. I died thinking I was wrong….that you were really gone.” The space grows a fraction larger. She senses his internal conflict, his attempt to find the right words. She didn’t know if there was any right or wrong words. She only knew that she needed to say _this_ out loud.

“I thought I was dying. I believed I was dying. There was nothing that led me to believe otherwise. Nothing.” She pauses and then finishes, “I was scared.” He closes his eyes in pain. Her confession of fear is agonizing to him. That he was the cause destroys him. Logically, he knows she understands. But this isn’t logic. And even she knows that logic and emotion do not often go hand-in-hand. He lets out a sigh, filled with such regret and remorse that she shudders beneath the weight of it.

“I can’t change what I did. I can only learn from my mistakes. Make different choices in the future. I can only ask for forgiveness even though I know there may be none to give. I can only love you with every breath in my body, and hold you until your belief that I will always, _always_ , keep you safe drowns that fear. I will always come for you, no matter how; I will always come for you.”

He drops his head to her shoulder and he feels her shift under his arms. He fears that she is pulling away from him. Instead, she rolls over to face him, tucking her face into his shoulder, entangling their legs under the sheet. He wraps his arms around her, gathering her closer. Her voice is muffled when she speaks, but he hears her just the same.

“You did keep me safe…perhaps not in the most conventional way,” he feels her smile at this and he can’t help but drop a slow kiss to her neck. She shivers in response and he feels her fingers press into his back, “and perhaps not with the most trustworthy person…but safe nonetheless.”

There is silence again, as they both think about that moment when he walked away from her, leaving her in a cell believing she was facing her death. Every step he took away from her was an exercise in torture. He wanted to reassure all of them, but most especially her, that they were safe. Yet he couldn’t, not without destroying the progress he had made. It was one of the most difficult decisions of his life…to seemingly betray the trust in the people who know him best, who care about him the most. At the time, he believed he had to do this alone. That to keep those he loves safe, he had to be alone. At the time, he could not see another way. He should have known better. Hadn’t she shown him different time and time again? There is always another way.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words somehow inadequate. In his mind, he hears another voice telling him that sorry will not cut it this time and regret flashes through him, another relationship in need of repair.

“I know,” she whispers back. “I’m sorry, too.” He draws back in surprise, a frown marring his forehead. Before he can speak, she says, “I know you would never hurt me, hurt any of us. I know this….here…” she puts a fist over her heart. “But here,” pointing to her head, “I doubted, and for that I am sorry.” He leans his forehead against hers, breathing her in, amazed that she would apologize to him. They are silent again. His hand makes slow sweeps up and down the line of her back. He feels the tips of her fingers tracing the scars on his chest.

“I forgive you,” she suddenly says and captures his eyes with her own. The clear blue of her eyes are guileless, filled with an infinite love. He had not known how badly he needed those words until she said them. He feels the ache in his chest ease. She kisses him softly, the soft feel of her lips igniting him. He sweeps his tongue in, tasting her, melding their mouths tightly together. She moans softly as his hand comes to rest on her hip, the other buried in the cascade of her air as he rolls her on top of him.

“Felicity….” he whispers. Silence falls again, broken only by the sounds of their mingled breathing, the soft moans she makes in the back of her throat, a low groan from him as her hand seeks and guides him inside of her.

“I love you, Oliver.”

The space between them is gone.


End file.
